The Road Not Taken

Da jeg gikk på videregående hadde vi en gang i lekse å tolke et dikt. Jeg hadde opp til det tidspunktet aldri vært glad i poesi, og så med skrekk på den leksen.

Men så kom diktet.

Diktet som virkelig grep meg, som virkelig gjorde inntrykk.

Diktet er skrevet av en amerikansk forfatter som heter Robert Frost, og det heter "The Road not Taken":

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,


And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Jeg synes den dag i dag at dette diktet er helt fantastisk!